The Ways of a King
by unicorn-skydancer08
Summary: Edmund is weary of his kingly duties, of having everyone push him around and tell him what to do all the time…especially Peter, above all the rest. Is there a way to be a king, a good and upright king, and yet still be a normal teenager?
1. Prologue

**The Ways of a King**

_You must think I've officially flipped, coming up with yet __another__ new story—and one that doesn't even focus on Tumnus this time! _

_Yes, Tumnus will definitely be featured in this one, no worries about that; but mostly this story will be about Edmund. I've always had mixed feelings about Edmund, both in the book and the movie. I didn't appreciate the fact that he was a screaming brat in the beginning, and that he sold out for a bunch of mere candy. But, I do have to admire the major change of heart he undergoes, and I have a great deal more love and respect for him in _Prince Caspian_—that, and the fact that Skandar Keynes has been getting pretty hunky lately! _

_Anyway, I wondered what it was like for Edmund at first as king of Narnia, especially with people like Peter and Susan and Oreius dominating him (yes, Oreius will get a fairly big role in this story), and I decided to try it. Oftentimes, I get my inspiration for my stories by asking myself: "What if…?" What would have happened if so-and-so did this, or so-and-so said that? What if this happened, or that happened, or that, or that? I imagine something that wasn't included in the original movie, that I personally feel ought to have been included…you get the picture. _

_As always, reviews will mean everything in the world to me! And if you can't say something nice in your review, don't bother reading at all. _

**

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Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved. **_

**

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Prologue**

It was the day of the royal coronation at Castle Cair Paravel. A great multitude of Narnians—fantastic creatures of all sizes and shapes, ranging from fauns to centaurs to Talking Animals—had assembled within the great marble hall to celebrate the inauguration of the Four Kings and Queens of their realm. Young Edmund Pevensie, along with his elder brother Peter, his elder sister Susan, and his younger sister Lucy, dutifully made way toward the Four Thrones that lay ahead, with the Great Lion Aslan accompanying them. On either side of them, a band of centaurs clad in full armor and draped in heavy, dark-colored sashes lifted their swords to them, as a symbol of respect and regard. Though Edmund held his head high with pride and did his best to walk with dignity, his legs felt like rubber, and his heart was pounding so hard that he was sure everyone else in the room must hear it.

When the time came for the crowning to begin, Tumnus the faun had the honor of bestowing the crowns upon the head of each King and Queen, while Aslan himself established the official titles for each young sovereign. Edmund was honored with the title of King Edmund the Just, meaning he would henceforth be recognized as a figure of fairness and truthfulness. It seemed a rather ironic title, at least to Edmund himself—considering the boy had never been the most truthful person in the world, not before this time. When Tumnus set the large silver crown in place atop Edmund's head, it truly was a crown of glory, and it was all Edmund could do to hold himself still and steady.

When all four monarchs had received their crowns and their designations, and Edmund was seated along with his siblings on the Four Thrones, Aslan stood directly before them and regarded each and every one of them with a look of deepest pride and love on his handsome, noble face. "Once a King or Queen of Narnia," the Great Lion declared unto them, in a voice that no one else in the room could hear, save only those who were stationed at the very front, "always a King or Queen. May your wisdom grace us, until the stars rain down from the heavens."

Edmund trembled slightly at these profound words. He would never have believed such words could sound so wonderful…and yet so frightening at the same time.

Looking all around, all of this seemed such an incredible responsibility. For just a brief moment, Edmund wondered whether Aslan knew what he was doing, putting someone like him in charge over these good people. After all, he was only a boy—only eleven years old; or, at least he would be, in six months. And up till recently, he was actually these people's enemy, having betrayed them by siding with the White Witch, Narnia's oldest and greatest foe. Though Edmund had redeemed himself at the Battle of Beruna, by shattering the White Witch's wand and distracting her in order to give Peter and the other Narnians somewhat of an advantage, and though Aslan had reassured Edmund that all was forgiven, the feeling of unworthiness and unreliability refused to go away completely. Even now, Edmund doubted that these Narnians truly trusted him, that they entirely accepted him as their ruler.

Given what he had done, he could understand that perfectly. But the notion still stung all the same.

Trying not to focus on these things, Edmund exerted his best efforts to center his thoughts upon the fact that this was a joyous occasion, a time for observance and celebration.

Off to the side, Tumnus, having done his duty, smiled at the Four Monarchs and wordlessly leaned forward at the waist in a formal bow, sweeping his arm grandly in front of him and dipping his head very low—enough to expose the nape of his fur-lined neck. One by one, everyone else in the court followed the faun's example. Some actually dropped to their knees on the cool floor, while others—like the centaurs, for instance—opted to remain standing, and showed their deference by the inclination of their heads.

Edmund felt a warm flush creep across his face and neck as he witnessed this.

Who would have thought, he wondered to himself, that it would all come to this? Sure, Edmund had always dreamed about being a king, about being in charge over everyone and having the perfect liberty to do as he wished; or, so he'd imagined, being the typical foolish child building foolish castles in the air, and all that.

He even once had the opportunity to be a king before (or so he had thought), when the White Witch inveigled him in the very beginning, with her promises of power and extra special treatment—and all the Turkish Delight Edmund could possibly eat.

In spite of himself, Edmund couldn't repress a shudder at the memory.

But the Witch, like her promises, and the Turkish Delight itself, proved to be false.

_This_ was the real thing. Aslan, Cair Paravel, the young king and the young queens stationed at Edmund's side, all these strange yet charming characters bowing at their feet…_they_ were the ones who were sincere and unfeigned, undimmed by shadows, untainted by deceit and deception. Edmund vowed to himself there and then that he would do his very best to never let any of them down. He had already made that mistake once—and that was one mistake he would never make again.


	2. Chapter 1

**The Ways of a King**

_And now we proceed with the real story! It feels a bit weird, writing something that doesn't revolve around Tumnus, for once. But I gotta admit, it's not such a bad change, either. It does help to have variety in my writing. It helps add that extra pinch of spice to the stories, making them all the more interesting to read, and all the more flavorful. And I must be honest, I have been getting rather interested in Peter and Edmund lately. Tumnus will always be my most favorite of the entire lot, but I'm starting to pay more attention to the rest of the gang than I have in the past. _

**

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Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved. **_

**

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Chapter 1**

_**Two Years Later…**_

"Where is Edmund?" Susan asked of her eldest brother. The young queen was compelled to speak in a hushed tone, as they were in the middle of an important lecture concerning negotiations with the neighboring countries of Calormen and Archenland.

"Late," Peter answered Susan, in the same hushed tone. "_Again._" The young High King didn't even try to mask his annoyance.

Susan heaved out a deep sigh of exasperation, and rolled her sky-blue eyes toward the glass ceiling above them. "Honestly, Peter," she said witheringly, "one of these days, I am going to—"

Right at that moment, the double doors at the far end abruptly burst open, startling everyone and cutting the lecture short, and Edmund himself came dashing into the room. He was garbed in his traditional royal livery, and his silver crown perched rather lopsidedly on his head. "I'm here!" the Just King cried out breathlessly. "I'm here." He skidded a little on the polished marble floor as he slid to a halt, and only barely managed to avoid plowing into the centaur Oreius, who was delivering the discourse himself that day.

Oreius, who served as second in command of their army, only frowned down at Edmund, and gave a not-so-subtle clearing of his throat. Edmund smiled weakly at the big centaur in exchange, as he adjusted his crown. "Er…good morning, Oreius," he said sheepishly, in a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

"King Edmund," said Oreius bluntly, "a king arrives at the appointed place, at precisely the appointed time. He does not turn up one minute later, nor one minute sooner. And, if you should make your presence known, kindly do not barge in on us like that. You come in like a stampede of wild horses."

"Sorry," was all Edmund could think of to say.

"Next time there is an important meeting, Sire, you would do well to have a working watch within your possession," Oreius informed him. "That way, you might actually be on time, for once."

"I got lost," said Edmund meekly, and it was true. Even after two years at Cair Paravel, the boy still had trouble navigating the big castle.

Oreius was not sympathetic.

"Then perhaps a map," he replied coolly. "I trust you don't need one to find your place, Sire."

So Edmund submissively went and took his seat next to his brother. Everyone else in the room glared at him as they watched him do so, save for his little sister Lucy, and for Tumnus the faun, who stood in a corner with his hands folded demurely behind his back, his rich green scarf draped casually over his bare shoulders. Tumnus smiled mildly at Edmund when Edmund's gaze briefly joined with his, and he offered the boy an encouraging wink. Lucy just looked on with pity and understanding from her own station, as Edmund sat down. She could see where Oreius was coming from; but she also thought the centaur, as well as everyone else, ought to cut her brother at least a bit of slack.

"How can you get lost in your own home, Ed?" Peter inquired, as Oreius resumed speaking. "We've lived here for two years now, and you still can't find your way around?"

"Well, hey, this place is huge, Pete!" said Edmund. "Give me a break!"

"Well, let me tell you something, Ed. If you are late one more time—" A strange gurgling sound interrupted Peter, and Oreius also stopped in mid-sentence at the sudden noise.

Everyone in the room fell totally silent.

"What," Oreius demanded, at length, "was that?"

"What was what?" Edmund asked innocently, as all eyes shifted to him. And then the very same burble sounded a second time, even louder than before, given the silence within the room—and the noise appeared to come from none other than Edmund himself.

Edmund now smiled, and self-consciously placed one hand over his belly. "Oh, _that!_" he said abashedly."Oh, er, well, I…I guess it was my stomach talking."

Susan said curtly, "Well, would you kindly tell your stomach to hush up, Edmund?"

"I can't help it," her brother protested. "I'm starving! We haven't had breakfast yet."

"Now is not the time to be thinking about food, Ed," said Peter. "We have far more important affairs to attend to this morning. You will simply have to wait, and eat later." He turned to Oreius. "Do pardon the interruption, Oreius, and please continue."

"Yes, Your Majesty," answered Oreius dutifully, and he returned his attention to the scroll of parchment in his large brown hands.

As the centaur droned on and on about this or that, Edmund soon found himself growing quite bored. All they were really doing was just sitting there, the raven-haired boy thought; and he could barely understand half of what Oreius was saying, anyhow. Once or twice, Edmund glanced in Lucy's direction, wondering whether she found this meeting to be as dull and tedious as he did. Sure enough, Lucy was somewhat slumped in her seat alongside Susan's, and she looked like she was having a difficult time keeping her eyes open.

Even Tumnus looked restless; and at one point, Edmund saw the faun begin to secretly mime Oreius's actions from behind the centaur's back. It was really quite an amusing sight, and it brought an audible smirk out of Edmund. When Peter turned to him at that, the younger king hastily lowered his eyes and covered his mouth, acting as though he were covering up a mild cough. One of the other fauns then discovered what Tumnus was doing—and when Tumnus noticed the dirty look his comrade was shooting at him, his humorous actions ceased instantly, and his whole face blushed warmly. Without a word, Tumnus meekly ducked his head, and raised a single hand to hide his brilliantly red face from view.

And all that time, Oreius had absolutely no idea of what was going on.

The seconds crawled, and with every second, Edmund grew all the more itchy and squirmy. At that time, he wanted nothing more than to just get out of there. After a while, just to save himself from dying of the boredom, Edmund practiced cracking his knuckles. The pops and snaps started out faint at first, but became increasingly louder and sharper. Neither Peter nor Susan was amused in the slightest. And finally, when Edmund made the loudest, most nerve-racking pop yet, Peter couldn't take it anymore, and burst out, "_Ed!_"

That got him. And it certainly got the attention of Oreius, and all else present.

Quickly, Edmund stuffed both his hands into his pockets, but it was already too late. "Sir Edmund, would you_ kindly_ pay attention to this lecture?" said Oreius, speaking none too kindly himself.

"Sorry," Edmund said again. His face felt hot, and he knew, like Tumnus, that he was blushing. "But it's hard to pay attention when you just sit around and do nothing while you're listening to a bunch of words."

This clearly proved to be the wrong thing to say, for Oreius's rugged face flushed a notable shade of crimson, and his broad chest swelled like that of an angry rooster. "These so-called 'words', Your _Highness_," said the centaur, practically spitting the last bit out as though it tasted bad, "are more than just mere marks scribbled onto a piece of paper, and I do not recite them just to hear my own voice. They have legitimate and valid meaning to them! These are terms and stipulations that you must know and become familiar with. Whether they are to your liking or not, you can—and you must—learn whatever you can from them!"

"Okay, okay," said Edmund timidly, leaning further back. "Don't get so worked up, Oreius. Sheesh…"

* * *

After what must have been forever, the meeting was at long last adjourned, and Edmund and his siblings were free to go.

"About time," sighed Edmund, as the foursome headed out together. "I thought we'd _never_ get out of there."

"Well, sorry if that meeting wasn't exactly to your taste, Ed," said Peter brusquely. "But, you know, it's our duty as kings and queens to attend these sorts of conventions."

"A life of royalty isn't all fun and games, you know," Susan put in.

"But shouldn't we be able to enjoy ourselves, as well?" Edmund asked. "I mean, come on; we may be royalty—but we're still kids, too. At least Lucy and I still are, anyway." He turned to his elder brother. "None of us are getting any younger, Pete. Shouldn't we make the most of our youth, while it still lingers?"

"If we're going to make good, suitable leaders over this country, Ed," Peter replied, "we must be disciplined from the very beginning. Discipline, diligence, and determination are what produce an honorable, upright, and respectable ruler. We have been given a great task, a tremendous responsibility from Aslan himself, and we must give such a responsibility nothing less of our very best efforts. Trust me, Ed, when you get to be my age, you will understand."

_Well, that's just swell, _Edmund thought sardonically. _Only sixteen, and already Peter has outgrown the pleasures and the delights of youth. _


End file.
